


this is how wars begin

by kuro49



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest, Tumblr: hansencesthalloween, bathroom blowjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 19:57:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5103842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is a bad idea.</p>
<p>He is the worst one to have surfaced in his head yet.</p>
<p>(He is still going to kiss him even when he is already thinking about how much this will ruin them both.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is how wars begin

**Author's Note:**

> written for the day five prompt of _monster_ kinda, very loosely, feel free to squint. 
> 
> it's been a busy week, it's going to get even more so before the end of it but i have no impulse control when it comes to scott hansen, so.

Kodiak Island is cold. It doesn’t help. It makes the basic temptation for warmth that much harder to resist when his hands are already going for his older brother’s skin. Scott misses the sand and the waves and the heat in the air. Perhaps this is his first mistake, reminiscing what is no longer here. Perhaps here is his second: Reminiscing at all.

The first drift between them reminds Scott of plenty.

Plenty he has forgotten, and just as much he has deliberately chose not to remember.

He is sorry.

He is also sixteen with it meaning very little. He might be in love. He might also be wishing he isn’t when he is already head over heels, confused and smitten, for his brother. There is messed up, and then there is him on a whole spectrum over.

Scott has always been a fuck up, that much is not news.

It is a proven fact, through time and time again.

It is a proven fact, through tries and tries otherwise.

Scott Hansen is self-destructive. Hercules Hansen is not entirely so. There is probably a middle ground in there between them that makes them a good thing, a good fit, but.

Herc doesn’t avoid him like Scott wishes he would.

He comes back to their quarters with Chuck asleep in Herc’s bunk, Herc sitting at the narrow table looking like he might want to talk. There’s a joke somewhere about Hansen men and their inability to use their words like the regular folks but Scott finds that the last laugh always end with him.

And it’s an echo that reverberates within him like that bitter Alaskan cold would to his bones.

He shuts the door behind him and waits for it.

Herc never does start, and Scott can’t quite blame him entirely for that. Because how do you start any conversations that end with asking your own brother why he wants to fuck you into the mattress? Scott is tempted to answer even without the question.

He settles for this.

“Are you surprised?”

Herc cannot even lie to tell him  _yes_.

Scott’s laugh is deprecating, it doesn’t wake Chuck.

They take this to the only part of the room that has a lock. The bathroom door closes behind them with finality.

Drift compatibility is work.

There is the illusion that it is a case of you have it or you don’t. No one ever mentions you also have to be willing to give a little to create space for what makes two into a fit for one. It is not easy. It is not magic.

It is an accommodation when edges are made where there are none to start. It is also so much more than anything Scott Hansen has ever put any effort into.

He is a bad idea. He is the worst one to have surfaced in his head yet. (He is still going to kiss him even when he is already thinking about how much this will ruin them both.)

After all, there are sacrifices to be made to save a world like this one.

His brother doesn’t believe this is one for them to win, Hercules is willing to go out fighting without finding out at all.

He strips out of his sweat-drenched clothes and starts the shower without waiting for Scott to do the same. The efficiency in his movement is almost removed from any emotional turmoil he should be feeling. He leaves the screen open, and Scott is so practiced in this, in how he speaks without using words at all.

Scott just isn’t inclined to make it this easy for him.

Because Scott loves him where he is still trying to say his name without guilt. And there is plenty here.

“I don’t need your pity, Herc.” Scott says, over the sound of water starting. “I can get my pity fucks from anyone else.”

He has his back turned to him, the expanse of skin and muscles is not being made out for a display. He tries not to wonder how many different ways Scott can read this.

“I’d rather you didn’t, Scotty.”

“…You’d rather I don’t get that inside of your head.”

Scott steps under the spray, and it is a murmur as he waits for him to make his choice. Herc watches him as he rids the cling of relay gel from his skin, cleaning the last traces of their drift from between them.

He is turning pink from the heat and Scotty isn’t faring much better.

“That’s not what I mean.”

Herc knows exactly how badly Scott takes to pain, the kind that his brother doesn’t himself inflict. The kind that ends up somewhere in between his every attempt at kindness. Herc isn’t about to admit to giving in. His hand finds that bruise from where Scott’s drive suit digs into his ribs, and listens to that soft hiss that escapes when he presses down.

Scott is not sixteen or even twenty-six.

He wants him still.

And this is an answer as good as any.

“The things I’d do to you, ‘Le.“

It sounds like a promise that will leave no one intact.

Herc is not turning away from it.

He doesn’t let the shock of the cold tiles get out from between his lips when he lets Scott press him back against the wall. The hot water does little to ease the bite of each kiss, his fingers finding old scars. The sighs that escape are drowned out by the rest, and if there is a hint of desperation, Herc is sure Scott would prefer it if he pretends he isn’t catching on at all.

His mouth seeks him out, and the water makes for a shy comparison when this feels like a branding. Scott doesn’t open his eyes under the spray but Hercules keeps his wide open, follows his hands as they mark his chest and sides and hips. 

His name is a sigh across the skin, a drag of wet, hot breath. Something of reverence that has no right being here at all.

Scott finds that fit he is looking for outside of a Conn-Pod. And, here, Herc learns to live with himself. Because if there is one thing Hercules is, he is destructive. He lets him sink down to his knees, he lets him take him into his mouth. 

Perhaps this is just one more mistake to add to the rest.

What he doesn’t ruin ruins itself.

He is his first. There is no middle ground to this when they have eliminated the last shred of distance from between them. 

(Scott comes without Herc touching him at all. He comes with the imprint of the tiles already made too deep to his knees. This, too, is to be reminisced in due time.)

 

XXX Kuro


End file.
